


Introducing Hawkeye

by raiining



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fanboy Phil Coulson, First Time, Gen, Get Together, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, M/M, Presumed Dead, deaf!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d started innocently enough – or, as innocently as something could when Hawkeye was involved.</p>
<p>Phil had been walking up to a bystander during their latest case when the man abruptly turned away and started running.  Phil set off in pursuit, mentally upgrading the man from <i>person of interest</i> to <i>suspect</i> when he leaped over a garbage truck emptying garbage cans.</p>
<p>Not over the cans – over the <i>truck</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm joining the already awesome sandbox of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. by writing a fic for a show that hasn't even aired yet!
> 
>  
> 
> *facepalm*
> 
>  
> 
> This is probably going to be jossed with the first episode, but I couldn't resist adding Hawkeye to the regular line-up. Because of reasons.
> 
> *g*
> 
> Thanks to the EVER FABULOUS Ralkana, who – like always – make this better. THANK YOU GORGEOUS!

It’d started innocently enough – or, as innocently as something could when Hawkeye was involved.

Phil had been walking up to a bystander during their latest case when the man abruptly turned away and started running. Phil set off in pursuit, mentally upgrading the man from _person of interest_ to _suspect_ when he leaped over a garbage truck emptying cans.

Not over the cans – over the _truck_. 

Agent Ward was pulling the car around, or at least he’d better be. If he was standing around gawking, Phil was revoking his Level Seven status. 

Phil chased the suspect through back alleys until the man turned abruptly into a dead-end. Straight brick walls rose all the way to the sky – the man wouldn’t be able to jump his way out, not unless he could fly.

Phil unholstered his sidearm and crouched at the mouth of the alley, calculating a shot to disable if the man did indeed take to the skies.

“I’m Agent Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. I would like to speak to you about – ”

The suspect cut Phil off by raising his hand and blowing out a chunk of the alley wall.

Phil ducked. The brick above his head exploded, dust and mortar flying everywhere. He kept his eye on the man. The suspect was huffing and puffing, but readying his hand for another strike.

Phil wondered if R&D had made any headway on that personal shield they’d been talking about. He also calculated the angle to the target and decided the probability of hitting the man was 87% if he rolled out of cover. Unfortunately, Phil was fairly certain the man would hit him with an energy strike the instant he did. Phil, he had recently been reminded, was made of much softer stuff than a brick wall.

He glanced around for Agent Ward, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Phil made a face. He couldn’t delay much longer – civilians would have heard the blast, and one would come looking for the source of the danger any second now.

Tensing, Phil prepared to dive out of cover. Before he could move, however, the air above his head whistled with a _thwist thwist thwist_ sound, and the man in the alleyway screamed.

Phil dared a look. The suspect had been pinned to the brick wall with an arrow through his left shoulder. A second arrow immobilized his right arm and a third shot pinned his left to the wall. The man stared at Phil with hatred in his eyes, but he evidently wasn’t going anywhere.

Phil raised his weapon and slowly advanced. A moment later, Agent Ward appeared in the company car. Phil made a mental note to discuss the man’s poor timing and waited until he joined him.

To his credit, Ward didn’t try to offer an excuse for being late. He simply pulled his sidearm and handed Phil a set of specialized, ability-retarding handcuffs. He kept an eye on the situation while Phil secured the suspect, and then radioed S.H.I.E.L.D. for a pick-up. 

Phil waited until the situation had stabilized, and then looked around for his unlikely benefactor. He couldn’t see Barton, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t there.

“Thank you, Agent Barton,” he said out loud, not bothering to raise his voice. Hawkeye could read lips, and Phil signed the acknowledgement for good measure.

To his surprise, Phil’s earpiece crackled. “No problem, sir. Just happened to be in the area.”

Phil couldn’t resist looking around again. The direction of the shots should put Barton in the apartment complex across the street, but he had more than likely moved the instant the arrows left his bow. 

“If you’ve escaped from the Helicarrier and illegally obtained a S.H.I.E.L.D. issued communicator,” Phil pointed out, “why are you stopping to hack into our comm. frequency when you could be busy running from the junior agents?”

Barton laughed. “I left them seven blocks and ten minutes ago, sir. They aren’t going to be catching me unless I stop for longer than this.”

Phil shook his head, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Get off the comms, Agent Barton.”

“Yes, sir,” Hawkeye quipped. The communicator buzzed out.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. van approached, and Ward handled the suspect transfer. When he finished, he walked over to Phil. “Sir, was that – ?”

Phil held up a hand. Sure enough, a minute later two frazzled looking junior agents pulled up in a motor-pool car.

“Sir,” one said, addressing Phil with no recognition in his tone. “Would you possibly have seen Agent Barton, sir?”

Phil stared at him. The junior agent flinched. “We haven’t seen him, no.”

The woman at his side rolled her eyes, catching the evasion. “Well, have you _heard_ him then, sir? We’re supposed to be tracking him down for Director Fury.”

Phil’s eyes flickered to her badge and memorized the name. He liked junior agents with backbone. “He did stop momentarily to render assistance,” Phil said, gesturing to the S.H.I.E.L.D. van pulling away from the curb. “I don’t know which direction he left in.”

The agent sighed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She turned back to the car and pulled her partner after her. The man darted a look towards Phil, then followed.

Phil waited until they had left, then turned to his subordinate. “You have a question, Agent Ward?”

To his credit, the man hesitated. “Yes, sir. I was just wondering – well, if Hawkeye’s on the run, does that mean that he’s been comprom – ?”

“No,” Phil said sharply, cutting him off. “No, it does not. Any other questions, Agent Ward?”

The man swallowed. “No, sir.”

“Good. Then get in the car. On our way back to headquarters you can explain to me why it took you three minuets longer than it should have to drive to this location.”

Agent Ward sighed but did as he was asked. “Yes, sir.”

 

*

 

The second time wasn’t nearly as dramatic. Phil and Ward were meeting a contact in a coffee shop at her request. Phil arrived early to order coffee and stake out the joint. He noticed Clint Barton sitting in a corner seat with sunglasses on and a baseball cap pulled sharply down over his head. 

Phil ignored him and ordered a coffee, sparing the man the same bland glance he gave the rest of the establishment. Hawkeye never looked up, but Phil was sure that Barton had already seen him and knew he was here. 

He didn’t get up and leave, though, not even when Ward appeared and sat down beside Phil. The two of them made conversation until their contact showed up. The meet went according to plan, and Phil gathered some useful information. He thanked the woman and paid for her tea. At his signal, Ward followed her out.

Phil stayed seated for another five minutes, making sure the woman had no accomplices and keeping an eye on the establishment. Their current case was more interesting than strictly dangerous, but it never hurt to be sure.

He was also hoping that Barton would decide to join him, though he wasn’t holding his breath. The man stood up and ordered another coffee a few minutes later. Instead of heading back to his previous seat, though, Barton unexpectedly grinned and moved to sit down opposite Phil. He carried his laptop over from the corner – a thin purple civilian thing that was either a cover for the personality he was currently cultivating, or his own machine.

“Do I need to find a new coffee shop?” Barton teased as he sat down. “Or was this a random New York coincidence?”

“A random coincidence,” Phil assured him, “unless you really are stalking me.”

Barton grinned. “Hey, it’s been two weeks since I happened to save your ass. If I were stalking you, I’d have shown up before now.”

“I have every confidence in your ability to conceal yourself from my best efforts,” Phil deadpanned.

Barton quirked his head. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but have you really been checking with your best efforts, Coulson?”

Phil had to admit to himself that he had not. He hadn’t wanted to look for Barton, because that would’ve meant admitting he’d been hoping Barton was nearby, and those weren’t the kind of thoughts Phil should be indulging in.

The sad fact of it was that Phil had harbored a rather pathetic crush on the other agent for some time now. Fortunately, they rarely worked together. Phil had little opportunity during which to embarrass himself.

“I have been rather busy,” he said instead.

“I heard,” Barton said with a grin. “Training up a new division – how’s the weird-o-meter calibrated these days?”

Phil had to smile. During one of their infrequent missions together, Barton had passed the time by arguing the divisions of a weird-o-meter Agent Romanoff wanted to create. “Nat says calling lightning from your fingertips is definitely a five,” Phil remembered him saying, “but that’s too Dark Side for me. I’m giving it a seven.”

Phil had learned during that op that Barton watched _Return of the Jedi_ fifteen times the year it came out. “Barney and I crashed in a movie theatre,” he’d said with a shrug, “it was pretty much heaven for a six year old.”

Phil had very carefully not reacted to Barton’s history of living on the street. “Have you seen the re-mastered version?” he’d asked instead. 

The archer had shivered. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I have the original on VHS and I refuse to buy it on DVD because I can’t find anything that doesn’t have that stupid updated Jabba-the-Hutt scene.”

Now, Barton leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I heard the junior agents want to turn the weird-o-meter into a drinking game.”

“I’d be surprised if they hadn’t already,” Phil countered. “By the way, did you get back to the Helicarrier okay?”

Barton made a face. “Yeah. Thanks for not selling me out. Fury was pissed.”

“You’re on restricted duty,” Phil pointed out. 

“I know, I know,” Barton said. He rolled his neck and stood up. “Anyways, thanks for letting me waste your time, Coulson.”

“Never,” he said, standing up. He was surprised Barton had sat and chatted with him for so long. “You can stay, if you want. I’m on my way out.” He gestured to the still-full coffee.

Barton shrugged and looked away. “Nah, I should get back. Fury’s going to look all disappointed again no matter what – better not make it worse than it is. Drink the coffee if you want, Coulson. They brew a good caramel macchiato here.”

Phil watched as Barton left, his eyes tracking the man until he turned a corner and vanished from sight. On instinct, Phil scanned the rooftops. For a second he thought he saw a figure, before it disappeared.

Phil smiled to himself and sat back down. He studied the cup of coffee. He had mountains of paperwork waiting for him at his desk, and Ward would be calling in the next couple of hours to let him know how the tail on their contact went. He really could use the caffeine.

He took a sip of Barton’s coffee. It felt deliciously intimate. Phil ruthlessly squashed his long-time crush and told himself the coffee didn’t mean anything.

He did finish it, though. They really did make a wonderful caramel macchiato. 

 

*

 

When his cell rang later that day, Phil answered it with something like a premonition. He glanced at the number and sighed.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you, Cheese,” Nick’s voice came over the line, slightly tinny but definitely amused.

“I have a good idea,” Phil confessed. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder and moved one stack of paperwork into the ‘done’ section. Lisa would have a field-day filing that tomorrow. “This is about Barton.”

Nick sighed into the phone. “He’s bored, Phil.”

“I know that, _Nick_. That still doesn’t make it my problem.”

“I can’t put him on anything out of country. The rest of the Avengers are lying low and Stark’s gone back to Malibu to try and work through his insomnia.”

Phil frowned. “I still say we should put someone on him.”

“I’ve tried – he dismissed the security chief we installed and promoted his buddy Happy Hogan instead. We’ll leave him alone for now, Phil. He’ll either work it out or he’ll collapse, and Potts has promised to call us if that happens.”

Phil couldn’t deny that knowing Pepper was in Malibu with Stark made him feel better. “Still…”

“I’m doing the best I can, Cheese,” Nick growled. “The WSC is breathing down my neck. I need some help with Barton.”

Phil sighed. He knew the WSC had it out for Barton – not because what the man had done under Loki’s control, though that was their explanation, but because Barton was clearly ‘Fury’s man’. Nick had recruited Barton, trained him, and given him a surprising amount of leeway inside of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick had always seen the archer as something special – the first entry in what would later become the Avengers Initiative. Barton had never been a conventional agent and he’d made a lot of enemies because of that.

Phil can still remember when Nick had come back from the mission that went FUBAR, an arrow of all things sticking out of his arm. His friend had been smiling in sickbay while the fussing doctors had done their best to remove the arrow with minimal damage.

“You have got to meet this guy,” Nick had said. “He’s amazing.”

“He shot you,” Phil felt compelled to point out. 

“From almost a mile away in gusty winds,” Nick agreed.

Phil stared at the arrow. “Are you sure he didn’t miss?”

“As the man himself assures me,” Nick said, holding up a small piece of paper that had obviously been stuck to the arrow shaft. “He _never_ misses.”

It had taken Nick four weeks to find and recruit Barton. He brought him back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and Phil had to admit he’d been impressed. Barton was younger than he expected, with an easy laugh and a devil-may-care smile. He flirted indiscriminately and demolished everyone’s high score’s on the practice range. While some agents had scoffed at his use of the bow, R&D had practically wet themselves with anticipation.

Phil, recognizing the early signs of an inappropriate crush, carefully kept his distance. He hadn’t been able to avoid Nick’s bragging, though.

In the years since, Nick and Barton had settled into an odd father-son relationship. Nick looked after him, gave him his space, and was always available when Barton needed to talk. Barton – by then called Hawkeye – proved to be almost fanatically loyal, acting as Nick’s eyes and ears in places where Nick himself couldn’t go. 

Phil knew Clint Barton was one of the few people – Phil himself included – who Nick considered a friend. If any other agent had been compromised by Loki like Barton had been, the WSC would have left it to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s internal division to discuss. Because it was Barton, though, they wanted him gone.

“The more I tell him to keep his head down,” Nick complained, “the more he sticks it in the wind. I can’t lock him on the Helicarrier, Phil. He needs something to do.”

“So you want to put him on my team?” Phil groaned. “Simmons and Fitz are just settling in, Skye is still a handful, and the betting pool on when May is going to shoot Ward is up to triple figures. I do not need Clint Barton thrown into this mix.”

“Phil Coulson,” Nick chided him. “Are you telling me you can’t keep your house in order?”

“I’m saying you gave me a civilian, two scientists, a twitchy pilot and an antisocial protégé. I’m doing the best I can, sir.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nick assured him. “And Barton will help – you’ll see. He’ll fit right in with everybody. It’s the man’s super-power.”

Phil had to sigh, but agree. Barton certainly didn’t lack for charm. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“ _Fine_ – but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“Cheese, have I ever?”

“That’s because I always warn you, sir.”

“Damn straight.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint showed up the next day at Phil’s makeshift office in the science wing. He’d learned over the past month that it was easier to sit near the scientists than it was to trudge back and forth from the administration wing all day.

Simmons and Fitz were having a field day. Ward’s trail of their contact had led them to an abandoned HYDRA base on U.S. soil, which worried Phil and thrilled the science team.

“Multi-phase issue disruptor tech!” Fitz gushed, carefully handling the delicate-looking machine. Phil personally thought it looked like a ray gun. “It’s a little corroded, but I can get it working again.”

“I think this is Skrull bio-technology, sir,” Simmons said, poking at the subtly vibrating piece of slimy skin trapped under a Petri dish. When she touched the dish with her pen, the skin changed color to match it. 

“Just be careful,” Phil sighed, visions of a Skrull attack dancing in his head. “And make sure Fitz sleeps tonight – he’s going to need to be clear-headed for tomorrow.”

“Wow, this is like scientist Candy Land,” Barton said, sashaying into the lab with a swing in his step. “What did you guys find, the motherlode?”

“As it happens, yes,” Agent Ward replied. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t touch anything.”

Barton, to his credit, rolled his eyes. “I’ll even sit on my fingers, Mom,” he said. “Ooh, look, shiny!”

Phil grabbed his hand before he could poke the Chitauri technology. “What the man said, Barton.”

Hawkeye shrugged and walked around the lab. He engaged Simmons in conversation about her specimen and with five minutes of seemingly genuine interest (and several intelligent questions, Phil noted) had her practically eating out of his palm.

Phil watched Barton carefully as he interacted with the members of his team. He hadn’t been lying to Nick – he wasn’t using to working with such a volatile combination, and Ward certainly wasn’t helping. As antisocial as the man could be, he was, however, a good agent. Phil would have given his left arm for Sitwell, though.

With a frown, Phil flexed his shoulder. It had healed remarkably well with Nick’s illegal technology, but the movement was still stiffer than it used to be. 

Maybe not his whole arm, Phil amended. Maybe just a finger.

He made a point to stop by and see Jasper later that week, though. The man had taken over a lot of Phil’s responsibilities when he was transferred, which had been the entire point. Phil had been grooming Jasper to take his place in the hierarchy for years now. It was good that he’d have the chance to move up.

It was also painful to watch Phil’s old files be shuffled around Jasper’s desk. “Phil! Sit down. Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Phil said, sighing. He collapsed into a chair. 

Jasper smirked and him and went to the Keurig he kept hidden in his cabinet. He made the coffee extra-strong and extra-sweet, and passed it to Phil. “This about Barton?” he asked.

Phil groaned. “The man is a menace.”

“He is,” Jasper agreed. “He’s also hot as shit.”

“Hotter,” Phil admitted. He let his head roll. “What the hell have I gotten myself into, Jasper?”

“Likely death and damnation,” Jasper said with a grin, settling back. “But tell me all about it.”

“He’s charmed the entire division,” Phil complained. “Fitz and Simmons adore him. May sits with him and compares weapons. Skye is a fangirling all over his ass and even _Ward_ has thawed a little, which I never saw coming. Barton is talking about organizing a karaoke night. _Karaoke_ , Jasper.”

His friend raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to go?”

Phil glared.

“It’s an honest question, Phil!” Jasper defended himself. “Look, you’ve been lusting after this boy for years now. You finally have a chance to show him you’re more than just a robot in a suit. Take the opportunity! Be charming!”

“I’m not charming, Jasper.”

“You can be, Phil. You could be perfectly nice and actually have a shot of making Barton like you. Why not give it a try?”

“Because I’m technically his boss. And he’s Nick’s friend.”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with it. Fury would probably encourage you. He knows how long it’s been since you dated.”

Phil sighed and closed his eyes. He took a sip of coffee. 

“I’m not that interesting, Jasper. Barton’s a superhero and an Avenger. He’s stuck with my team for now because he’s bored, but the instant the WSC clears him, he’s going to be gone so fast he’ll leave smoke damage. The team is going to miss him enough as it is – there should be at least one of us who isn’t pining.”

“It sounds to me like you’ve already lost that battle,” Jasper pointed out. “But whatever, if you want to torture yourself by longing from afar, don’t let me hold you back.”

Phil sighed. He cradled his coffee cup. “This’ll be good for me, anyways,” he said, trying to convince himself. “The more time we spend together, the more I’ll realize that he’s nothing I can’t get over and this inconvenient crush will finally go away.”

“Mmmhmm,” Jasper said, reaching for his files. “There’s only one problem with that, Phil.”

“What’s that?”

“What if it doesn’t go away and you’ve fallen worse than ever? Then you’ll be friends, and it’ll be a whole new layer of awkward.”

 

*

 

Phil tried to avoid Jasper’s logic, but the sad fact of the matter was that he was right. The more time Phil spent with Barton, the more he got to know the man behind the smile.

Clint wasn’t just fun, easy, and charming – he was intelligent, quick on his feet, and surprisingly lonely. Phil had known that Natasha was his closest friend, but she was busy right now with this business of the Winter Soldier. Clint hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“It’s been months since New York,” Clint shrugged into his cranberry juice. They were sitting in a karaoke bar because Barton really was a terrible human being. Simmons was currently destroying a Celine Dion song Phil didn’t recognize. “Psych cleared me and Nat hung around for a while, but the show must go on. This thing with the Red Room has her in a knot. I wanted to help, but…” he shrugged again.

Phil nudged his ankle. “You know Nick would send you if he could?”

Clint smiled. “Yeah, I know. Fury’s good that way. The WSC isn’t letting up, though. They want me gone, and black-bagged for good measure.”

Phil’s chest tightened. “That _isn’t_ going to happen,” he promised.

“I know,” Clint said. “Fury’ll stop them.”

“He will, or the team and I will get you out,” Phil said. “Nick knows to give me twenty-four hours notice. I can have you settled on a beach sipping Dark & Stormies where no one will ever find you.”

Clint blinked, and then smiled at him. “You’d do that for me, sir?” he asked.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Of course I would. And don’t call me sir. We’re at a karaoke bar.”

Simmons had finally left the stage, Fitz clapping wildly. 

“That we are,” Clint said, looking around. He smiled shyly. “Didn’t think I’d ever get you out here, Coulson.”

Phil frowned. “Why not? I’m not actually a robot, you know.”

“I know.” Clint shrugged. “Didn’t think you liked me enough to tolerate me outside of work, is all.”

Phil blinked and tried to think of something to say. Clint misinterpreted his silence. “It’s okay,” he said, looking sheepish. “I know I was pretty much an asshole when I first joined S.H.I.E.LD. I gave you a lot of crap, and I’m sorry about that. I guess I just wanted to impress you.”

“Impress me?” Phil said. His mind flew back to those first years. He’d never thought Barton had been giving him attitude. 

Clint’s smile turned more genuine. “Of course,” he said. “The great Phil Coulson? Shit, you should hear the way Nick talks about you. I was surprised to find out you didn’t walk on water.”

Phil hopped he was kidding. “He does not.”

“Oh, yes he does,” Clint said. “Or at least, he did to me.” He shrugged. “We talked sometimes, about his old army days. He told me about Cairo.”

Phil groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “He did _not_.”

He could _hear_ Clint’s shit-eating grin. “He most certainly did. Cemented my opinion of you as the world’s biggest badass. For the record, how did you possibly – ?”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll paint every shirt you wear yellow. Hello, Simmons. Nice job up there.”

Jemma looked curiously at him. “Thanks.” She turned to May. “You promised to go next.”

“Absolutely not,” Melinda said, shaking her head. “You’re misremembering.”

“Ah ah ha!” Skye gloated. She pulled out her ever-present tape recorder. “I have it on record!”

May glared at her, and then lunged for the recorder. Skye squealed and tried to hide under the table. Leo cackled and went after her, while Jemma tried to tug Melinda to the stage.

Clint laughed from his side of the booth. “You always get the best teams, Coulson.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help his grin. “I do.”

 

*

 

Of course, the reason Phil never asked for Clint unless he was particularly needed for a mission was because Phil had difficulty keeping his objectivity in the field.

“Ward, go after Barton,” Phil said, the moment the building came down. It killed him to not go himself, but Ward was closer to the rubble than Phil was. He would have the best chance of finding Barton – Phil had to go after the target.

Their villain of the week was an evil scientist with delusions of grandeur. The man had created flying robots that could take down people and, apparently, buildings. Phil hadn't thought the full Avengers team would be needed – he'd been confident his team could handle it.

And they could, Phil knew, as he took off running after the scientist. He saw May angle off as Phil herded the man southwest. The moment he stumbled, Phil was on him. May appeared with the handcuffs and knelt on the scientist's chest.

“Go,” she told him. Phil didn't give her lip for ordering him around. He went.

Ward was frantically searching through the rubble, already on the phone with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s rescue and recovery team. Phil eyed the building in despair. It was completely destroyed. Clint had been on top of it, directing them towards the scientist, when it had gone down. He would have fallen six stories before being crushed by the falling brick.

“Sir,” Ward said, a terrible look in his eye. Phil felt his heart stutter.

“Ow,” said a voice from the alleyway. Phil's pulse leapt and he looked over. Clint came stumbling out from between the nearby buildings, clutching his arm and limping.

“I had to jump and missed my landing. Lost my comm. unit and my hearing aid. Jesus,” he said, staring at the rubble, “what a mess.” He grimaced. “I think I sprained my ankle.”

Phil crossed the ground towards him, his legs feeling shaky on the uneven ground. 

“Sir?” Clint asked, looking surprised.

Phil abruptly realized that everything he was feeling must be showing on his face. He cursed. He could be blank for the job, and calm in front of Stark, but take someone he cared about and he couldn't help but let it bleed through.

Struggling, Phil got himself under control. He forced himself to look at Clint, who was staring at him. “Better get to medical, Barton,” he said, in a rough approximation of his usual tone. “That arm will need looking at.”

Clint licked his lips, then nodded. “Uh, yes, sir,” he said, and winced. 

Phil stayed to help with the clean-up, and then directed the interrogation of their mad scientist. The man was delusional, and too proud of his achievements. Phil had to leave before he punched him in the face.

He delayed with paperwork for a while, before he realized he was being a coward. Sucking it up, Phil went to medical.

Barton was there in a single room, looking through his chart. He already had his discharge papers and a prescription bottle of pills. He looked dusty, but better – his arm was bandaged and there was a tensor bandage around his leg. A pair of crutches sat in the corner.

“How do you feel?” Phil asked.

Clint made a face. “Like I jumped six stories without a safety net. Caught myself on a fire escape though, which is why the ankle's only sprained.”

Phil sat down in the visitor's chair. “You didn't use your grappling arrow?”

Clint grimaced. “Nowhere to anchor it. Shitty cheap construction apartment buildings on every side – jumping for the fire escape seemed the better plan.”

Phil nodded. They lapsed into silence. After a minute, Clint hesitantly looked up.

“So... are we going to talk about this?”

Phil steeled himself. “There's nothing to talk about, Barton.”

Clint’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, right,” he said, and there was an edge to his voice. “Nothing you wouldn't feel for the rest of the team, right sir?”

Phil looked at him. Clint was staring down at his fingers, twisting them into the bed sheets.

“No,” Phil admitted. Even if he couldn't have this, maybe Clint deserved to know how he felt. “Not what I would feel for the rest of the team.” He sighed. “I'm sorry, Clint. I shouldn't let my personal feelings interfere with our performance in the field.”

Clint looked up so fast Phil blinked. “Personal feelings?” he echoed.

Phil looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Clint? An apology?”

“No!” Clint said. He leaned forward. “God, no, although, you kind of already did that. No, I just mean...” he trailed off. “I never thought I had a chance with you.”

It was Phil's turn to stare. “What? That's impossible.”

Clint laughed hollowly. “Yeah, right. The great Phil Coulson? The man who owns every situation he walks into, who likes nice suits and shiny cars and fancy shit I'll never understand?” His face twisted and he looked away. “I'm a hick who never went to high school, sir. You're kinda out of my league.”

Phil couldn't stop himself from reaching out and touching Clint's cheek. He didn't even want to try. “Never that.”

Clint bit his lip, looking up at Phil through his lashes. “Really?”

Phil chuckled. “Yeah, really.” He shook his head. “Jesus, Clint. I've had a crush on you since the day you walked into S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“No,” Clint protested, looking startled. 

“Yes,” Phil admitted ruefully. “You were young and cocky, but with the skills to back it up. I never had a chance.” He let his hand fall. “But it was unprofessional, and Nick would’ve killed me if I’d done anything to mess up your chances at S.H.I.E.L.D. I kept my distance.”

“I really thought you didn't like me,” Clint breathed. He was staring at Phil in wonder. “Like – I used to lie there at night and tell myself it didn't matter, because I never had a chance anyway, but…” He coughed awkwardly. “Then Nick offered me a job on your new team and I figured – why not? Maybe I could show you that I've changed.”

“You haven't changed at all,” Phil said with a smile, “and I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to change, Clint. I've spent the past several weeks doing my best not to fall in love with you and failing horribly.”

Clint grinned. It was bright and wide and oh so beautiful. “Good. Because I've been in love with you for years now, so it's only fair.”

Phil stared at him. “We are the two biggest idiots on the planet,” he said. 

“Definitely,” Clint agreed. He stared at Phil's lips. Phil let himself think that maybe he could really have this. “Also, unless you do something to stop me, I'm going to kiss you now.”

Phil inhaled the scent of him. “You'd better,” he warned, “or I'll – ”

He never got the chance to finish. Clint kissed him.

 

*

 

“Oh my god,” Skye said when they stumbled into work the next morning. “Finally!”

“What?” Jemma asked, looking up from her experiments. She watched them for a moment before turning to Leo. “You owe me fifty bucks!”

“Absolutely not!” he protested. “I said two life-or-death situations to finally confess their feelings, not one!”

“And _I_ said the whole ‘Phil didn't actually die’ thing counted as one, so pay up.”

Leo grumbled but dug around for his wallet.

“I don't get it,” Ward said from his chair.

Melinda rolled her eyes. “UST, you idiot.”

“US – what?”

Skye patted his hand. “It's okay, pumpkin. We'll find you a special snowflake of your very own.”

Ward growled.

Clint laughed and leaned back against Phil's desk, their fingers still tangled together. “I kinda love your team,” he said to Phil, bumping shoulders.

“I know,” Phil said, bumping back. “And they're your team now, too.”

“Tony's going to want to make buttons,” Clint warned. 

“I think Pepper's decided on t-shirts.”

“Purple t-shirts?”

“Not everything has to be purple, Clint.”

“But it's everyone's favourite color!” Clint protested. “And it goes with everything!”

“It totally does,” Skye agreed. “Also emperors wore it, so,” she shrugged. “There you go.”

Clint snapped his fingers. “Listen to my girl, here.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Does _anyone_ want to hear about my groundbreaking achievements this morning?”

“No,” Leo said, patting her hand. “Sorry, sweetie.”

Ward raised his hand. “I do.”

Jemma walked over and plunked down beside him. “Finally!” she said, and started talking.

Clint leaned over a while later, when the team was debating what to do. “I meant it, though,” he said, talking softly. “I like your team.”

“I'm glad,” Phil said, and smiled at him. Together, they turned and let Jemma talk.


End file.
